Love without Limits
by WriteOnForever
Summary: It's the first time she hates not knowing his secret identity. Chalant. Set after Season One.


Disclaimer: This show does not, in any way, shape, or form, belong to me.

Love without Limits

It's the first time she hates not knowing his secret identity.

Three months to the date, they have been boyfriend and girlfriend, and she has yet to press for details about his civilian life. She understands that Batman's completely paranoid, and, considering all the freaks and psychopaths that occupy Gotham, he has a pretty legitimate reason to be. Besides, just because she can't describe the color of Robin's eyes doesn't mean she can't describe _him_. He's fun-loving and comical, sweet and gentle, smart and strong. Hours spent with him feel like mere minutes, and they never run out of things to say. Her hand fits within his perfectly, and, when she cuddles with him underneath a star-studded sky, his arms hold her just right. Plus, he's a pretty amazing kisser.

That boy, the one she's swapped stories with, the one who never ceases to make her laugh or convince her that she's the prettiest girl in the world, isn't here right now. The boy dragging his feet across the floor as he enters the living room can't be hers, no matter how much he resembles Robin. There's no smile on his face, not even that smirk that drives her crazy, and his back is slightly hunched, like he's protecting himself from an unknown enemy. Even after their worst missions, he's never seemed so distressed, which leaves her to believe that what is hurting him isn't hero-related, isn't within her ability to know, isn't within her ability to fix.

"Hey, Robin," she greets.

"Hey, Zatanna," he returns, trying to smile, but it seems broken, shattered pieces forced back together.

"Megan found this trivia game; we're playing as couples." After a moment, she adds, "Trying something new for team bonding."

"Cool."

The lack-luster response, coupled with his failure to make a joke about the overused, two-word phrase, solidifies her belief that something's wrong. Concerned, she slips an arm around his shoulder, pretending that he doesn't flinch. "Robin, are you okay?"

"Fine," he offers, but he won't look at her. "Just a little tired."

"Are you sure—?"

"Hey, guys! You all ready to lose?" Breaking free from the contact, he slides onto the couch, the only empty spot around the table.

Artemis snorts. "Bring it on, Boy Blunder." Turning to Megan, she asks, "Can you read the rules?"

As the Martian launches into a detailed explanation, Zatanna sits beside Robin, leaning her head in an attempt to read him. The thing masquerading as a smile is still on his face, and he's twisting his hands in his lap.

"You know, you don't seem very traught," she murmurs, somehow managing to say it teasingly.

"What? Oh. Yeah." Speaking to the floor, he mutters, "One of those days."

Biting her bottom lip, a bad habit that stems from anxiety, she focuses her attention on the game. Pushing him for details will simply encourage him to withdraw further, and she doesn't want to risk that.

Even without her interference, he continues to retreat within himself. With the game underway, he becomes less and less attentive, unhearing their questions until she nudges him gently and repeats them. Even then, his only reply is a sentence or a shrug of his shoulders, leaving her to provide their answer.

By this point, the others have noticed he's not acting normally; worried looks are constantly shot in his direction, especially from Wally, but he fails to notice, completely uncharacteristic for a boy trained by the World's Greatest Detective. Zatanna is overcome by both marvel and terror over what could have possibly reduced him to this state.

"Okay Zatanna, Robin, this is for you." Leaning forward, Raquel reads, "Which of the following circus acts is the most popular? A) lion tamer, B) acrobats, or C) clowns."

Ready to reiterate, the magician finds herself unable to speak when she turns to Robin. His jaw is tightly clenched, and he's dragging his nails across his hand, light red lines tattooing his skin. A few breathless moments pass before he abruptly stands. "Headache," he mumbles, retreating to his room.

The remaining teens uncomfortably glance at one another, no one buying his excuse. Wally rises. "I'll go check on him."

Unable to just sit there, Zatanna objects, "No, let me."

Her footsteps seem to echo in her ears as she makes her way to his room, thoughts bouncing wildly in her mind. With trembling hand, she knocks softly. "Robin?"

"What?"

"Can I come in? Please?"

"My head's killing me; I'll talk to you later."

"You and I both know you don't have a headache. Please, we have to talk."

Shuffling comes from the other side, and the door opens slowly, Robin peeking his head around. "What do we have to talk about?"

"Whatever's wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Yes, there is," she insists, entering. "Seriously, Robin, if something's bothering you, you can tell me."

"I can't."

Though she was expecting an answer like this, it still hurts. Sighing quietly, she murmurs, "Can't you just…kind of let me know? Please? I'm worried."

"I'm fine," he protests. "Really."

"C'mon, Robin, I want to help."

"I don't need help." There's a hard edge suddenly, and it catches her by surprise. "I don't _want _help."

Anger burns inside of her. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it."

"I'm not being a jerk." His runs his fingers through his hair. "It's just…it's just…God, I can't tell you and you know that! So just drop it!"

"Oh, I'm _so sorry _for caring! Please, I hope you forgive your _girlfriend_ for actually being concerned about you! How could I do such a horrible thing?" The acidic words leap from her mouth, brought forth because of frustration. Frustration over Robin acting like this. Frustration over being left in the dark. Frustration over not being able to comfort him like he's comforted her, because she can't kiss away the tears he isn't crying or heal the wounds he isn't revealing.

Grabbing the doorknob, she spits, "You want me to leave? Fine. Have fun being alone."

She regrets what she says as soon as it hits the open air, but before she can take it back, Robin whimpers, "Zee?"

Facing him once more, heart splintering and bleeding within her, she notices his lower lip trembling, just the slightest bit. "Don't go."

"I'm sorry," she breathes, apologizing for what she's said and for all the pain he's suffering. Throwing her arms around him, she repeats, "I'm sorry."

His fingers dig into her back, grasping for something real. Quivers ripple through his body, and his heart's beating rapidly, a frightened hummingbird searching for freedom. For the first time, she realizes how truly small he is, and that terrifies her.

"It…it'll be alright," she offers, no conviction behind the statement. "Robin, it'll—"

"Don't call me that," he pleads, voice choked. "S-she used to c-call me that."

The simple sentence brings tears to her eyes. It doesn't matter who this _she_ is; all that matters is that she loved him. And now, for whatever reason, she's gone and is never, ever coming back.

"I'm sorry." Zatanna wants to give him more than just that, but it's all she can offer right now. "I'm sorry."

He crumples against her, legs no longer able to carry him. Carefully, she eases him to the floor, tightening her hold even more. After a moment, he mumbles something into her shoulder.

"What?"

"Don't leave me." He tilts his head, making eye-contact from behind the sunglasses. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't leave you," she promises. "I won't leave you."

She's doesn't know his secret identity. Maybe she never will. As she's holding him, kissing him gently, whispering kind words in his ears, she doesn't even care. He needs her; she needs him. And that's enough for her.


End file.
